


Temperance

by attaccabottoni



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, The one where I get to write Nero calling Vergil “Dad” and then high-five myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: “That doesn't mean I can't hate that it happened at all,” Nero whispered brokenly.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 124





	Temperance

**Author's Note:**

> _(Edited to add: Written before the release of Visions of V chapter 25.)_
> 
> Imagine me softly saying to myself, _“what the ever-loving fuck,”_ as I read [this part of the Devil May Cry 3 manga](https://mangadex.org/chapter/225363/16). Now imagine if Nero were to ever hear about it.

One of the consequences of having his twin back was that Dante has become an uncool and not very stylish translator of Vergil's silences.

Shortly after their return, Vergil adapted into modern human lifestyle at his characteristic speed when motivated by some perceived competition. His overachieving twin showed no sign of having spent the last two decades in the Underworld by picking up everyday technological knowledge like he probably spent nights poring over user manuals and tutorials to make it look easy. He even used wireless earphones and blue light blocking glasses, and was making noises about setting up an online shop for Devil May Cry. Dante only had vinyl records and magazine subscriptions, and didn’t even have an email address, let alone know the first thing about the newly-installed WiFi.

Personal communication was entirely a different story.

Far from being rudely aloof, Vergil was certainly up for combat-related banter, and capable of concise assessments within the confines of the missions undertaken. During downtime, however, as his brother was adjusting to what passes for normal life for the sons of Sparda, Dante took it upon himself to fill in the gaps punctuating Vergil’s lack of participation while shooting the breeze. He initially thought there was going to be some delicacy needed for Vergil not to feel patronized. Instead, it would seem like Vergil either chose not to engage in talk that didn’t have some practical purpose, or has been alone for too long that he didn’t see how his unwillingness to open his mouth could be regarded by others as an unwillingness to share himself with anyone.

Dante was familiar with that instinct to be closed-mouthed far too well, in the gray years that followed Mallet Island.

And then there was a time when, instead of talking on behalf of his brother, he had to intervene by not saying anything at all. Dante and Nero were both cleaning their guns in the van when they overheard Vergil, in response to Nico pestering him over the exact power output required for the usage of Yamato, explaining in a no-nonsense tone how he was able to use what little demonic power he had at the time to separate himself in two.

“My feelings were holding me back from my goal, so I used Yamato to cut them off, and V was the result.”

Dante was ready to sarcastically joke at his twin for his genius, but was arrested by the wide-eyed horror in Nero’s face. So he quickly shot out an arm as Nero was about to rise from his seat, and shook his head. “Not now,” he murmured, his grip on Nero’s shoulder telling him in no uncertain terms to stay where he was. Good thing he was so trusting. Nero stewed in his unexpressed agitation that his fingers kept slipping while reassembling Blue Rose. Dante threw him a sympathetic look at each instance, causing Nero to fumble even more.

That Nero was going to take personally anything relating to V was not a surprise. When he and Nero first met in Fortuna, it looked like Nero didn’t have a lot of friends and moved like he was used to fighting alone. Eventually, it turned out that Nero and Nico had worked well enough together with V, from the way they currently interacted. These days, the two actually had to catch themselves unconsciously extending the same casual regard to Vergil, who in turn would stare at them with a slight frown.

The fact that V came from Vergil made Nero understandably involved in the matter. It was an important conversation that they ought to have, but not right now when Nero’s passion could easily be mistaken as anger. Worse still, would be the catastrophic effect on Nero were Vergil to react to his son’s concern with self-righteousness or biting coldness.

Dante was both proud of Nero and regretful for stopping him. On one hand, it heartened Dante every time Nero proved to be better than either his uncle or his father. When Dante would have reacted with mockery to hide his sadness over his twin’s actions, Nero was primed to respond with his sense of justice against Vergil’s violence towards himself. On the other hand, regardless of the wisdom in preventing a misunderstanding between father and son, Vergil should see that he was loved.

But apparently, against Nero’s surprising talent at coming up with questions that were the conversational equivalent of tripwires, Vergil needed all the help he can get. Dante found that being an uncle meant developing a warning system in place, where he automatically jumps in before his brother could say anything.

His internal alarms were ringing pretty loudly at the moment.

“How did you get your Devil Trigger?”

Dante grinned to cover his unease. “The traditional way, getting stabbed.”

Nero turned his head toward Vergil, who replied without looking up from his book, “You can say it was much of the same.”

“When did it happen?”

Before he could even start a joke about “teenage hormones making it easy to pull Devil Triggers” guaranteed to distract Nero away from this unfortunate line of inquiry, Vergil deigned to raise his eyes and answer in his usual matter-of-fact fashion.

“I stabbed Dante with Rebellion when we were nineteen.”

Dante was prepared to colorfully elaborate on that succinct statement, but Nero angled his body to fully face his father as his eyes sharpened dangerously. He was so intent on Vergil that he couldn’t have noticed even if Dante were to yell and wave his arms frantically to prevent him from voicing out his follow up question. “And you?”

If one didn’t know how to watch for it, it would seem that Vergil wore the face he used to look down his nose on whatever he considered as beneath him. But it was clear to Dante that Vergil was only keeping his entire face unmoved as he retreated far into memory. “When I was eight, the day our mother was murdered, I was taken away into a dark place. I do not remember where it was. Only that Mundus’ foot soldiers made a play of chasing after me and stabbing me with their swords.”

Dante didn’t need to see Nero’s expression to know that he couldn’t have reacted well to that. His own undirected rage was neither here nor there. This situation had the distinct possibility to explode at any given moment. He stood quickly and rounded the desk to stand closer to his nephew. “Look, it’s not useful to get into the story. All that matters is we’re now stronger for it.”

Nero took on a mulish look. “But for you to face all that—”

Vergil’s face remained smooth as he stared back. “There’s nothing to think about.”

“Like hell! Being hurt so bad as a kid is not nothing!”

“It was over a long time ago—”

Vergil abruptly stopped when Nero marched from where he stood between Dante’s desk and the couch where Vergil sat. Dante watched him take on a confrontational stance in front of his brother, lips pressed tight while working his jaw.

Then something in his bright eyes shifted. “That doesn't mean I can't hate that it happened at all,” Nero whispered brokenly. His shoulders slumped, and in one sliding motion, the rest of him followed down to sit and press himself against Vergil’s side, with both hands tucked in the crook of his elbow.

Dante's mind blanked with panic. He had no idea how his twin was going to react to this. Would he reject any display of softness, and sneer at his son’s physical gesture of seeking emotional reassurance?

To his relief, Vergil only blinked. “Would you like some tea?”

Nero did his best to dig his face on his father’s shoulder. “Don’t move. You’re not going anywhere, old man.”

With slowness that probably had everything to do with confusion over his warring instincts, Vergil laid his chin on top of his son’s head. “Your feelings are hurting you.”

“Well I'm not going to get rid of my feelings with Yamato, Dad, so you better get used to them.”

Whenever Hell was brought to mind, the first thing Dante thought of was the wild and empty stillness of the sky. The ever-present atmosphere of desolation remained unchanged even while he followed Vergil through it and out from it.

Now, dust motes shone and floated in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and in the most drunk states he was in, he couldn't have dreamed up a scene like this even if he tried. Vergil’s incredulous face at Nero hanging on his arm like a limpet on his couch made him fight back the laughter until tears gathered in his eyes. Here, all he could see is life.

Vergil looked over, smiled wryly, and reached out a hand towards him.

He’ll take being uncool and not very stylish if it meant he could be the person who could gather what was important in his arms. It was all Dante could do to keep his eagerness under wraps as he joined his family on the couch.


End file.
